Communique
by Suddenly and Deliberately
Summary: I'm sorry! This is not about WWII, but WWI. I couldn't find any place for it!


Disillusionment had taken the place of desire, cynicism the place of confidence in their faces. What had

horrified them mere months previously was now a way of life- their youthful visages retained a jaded

appearance that could only be acquired by war. They no longer cringed at the sight of a mangled limb,

nor covered their ears at the sound of agonized screaming. Even when they were given temporary leave,

they heard the cries. No one talked about it, but it was mutual consent: the tormented shrieks of still-

living cavalry- and artillerymen were much preferred to those of nighttime phantoms. They had their lives,

their loves- but it was as if everything in their respective existences had been frozen. Their men fought,

their femininely adorned rooms stood empty. When the letters came, they cried and prayed. Nothing

more could they do. Pray for the war to end; cry for those who would never return to them. This day

was rare: they could forget the war if they so chose; no battles were currently imminent.

"So... he asked you to marry him, did he?" Paulette inquired with scarcely veiled excitement. Marie's

courtship had been an enviable thing of perfection, and when the war started the letters Raoul wrote her

from the trenches caused almost every other girl in the corps to fall in love with him as well. The most

current letter had, of course, carried the proposal, along with a description of how Raoul would have

liked to carry it out. It was the most beautiful writing any of them had ever beheld, and Marie had sent

her complete agreement to him the very moment she finished his letter. She cried a few tears when she

found the diamond removed from the enclosed ring (undoubtedly the work of censors) but wore the

band proudly nonetheless.

"Yes! Oh, yes he did!" sighed Marie. "One more reason to wish for this accursed war to end quickly!

Think of it, Paulette. The end of the war! It is sure to come soon. I have heard the Germans are

retreating!" They all had read this, but even the propaganda of their own French government was not to

be believed in a time of war. From the letters they received, they realized conditions were much worse

for anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the midst of the conflict than the newspapers let on to. But

it was easy to believe the uniform text of the trusted _Moniteur_: they had always done so before.

As the sun rose the next morning, something was different. A palpable heaviness hung in the air, and

the world seemed more silent somehow. It was a day for bloodshed, and this did not fail to come about.

By one o'clock it was clear the slaughter had begun again. The scent of blood and smoke soon filled the

scant halls of the hospital, as one after another wounded soldier was brought in, some scarcely

recognizable, all in tattered, bloodied uniforms of blue. Supplies and hands were hard to come by; many

men died before a look was given to them. But there were no familiar faces among the injured, for which

they all were sorely grateful.

That night, a sense of order had been finally restored to the unit. Sedatives had been administered and

extremities amputated, and the nurses were able to escape the constant death for the first time in several

hours. Marie caught sight of the truck before the rest of them: the mail had arrived. She cried out

joyously as it pulled up to the door. Was there a letter for her? Yes, in fact: there were two! From

Raoul? Of course! Ripping open the envelope immediately, as always, the smile on her face increased as

she took in his bold penmanship, all four pages of it. As she reached the close, which described his love

for her, she sighed in delight. How wonderful it was to see love in this tragic time! Marie then examined

the second letter curiously; clearly some sort of military communique. Was she being relocated? Her

finger tore into the envelope with little enthusiasm, as she had grown to love her fellow nurses at this

station. But it had happened before: heavy fighting changed places; therefore, so did the medical

workers. She pulled out an official-appearing rectangular card and scanned its contents. Her face went

white, and she read it three more times before screaming, dropping the card and rushing back into her

quarters. Paulette retrieved the card from the dusty ground and saw what had caused such distress. The

war had not ended quickly enough for Marie and Raoul. Raoul was dead.


End file.
